Dust and Pain
by happyday girl
Summary: Set in series 1. The Musketeers are sent to collect a debt from an infamous merchant down in the city's docks. The day takes a sinister turn as the man refuses to pay his debts and threatens the inseparables with violence, however the situation is about to get much worse as an accident rocks the area and puts all their lives in danger... Hurt!Boys.
1. Chapter 1

'Why do we always get sent to the worst jobs?' Porthos asked, turning up his nose as the smell of fish guts wafted over the four men as they walked slowly down to the harbour.

'I quite like the smell of guts in the morning!' Aramis chuckled, taking in a big, deep breath. His face immediately turned a fetching shade of green, yet he carried on in a strained voice, eyes watering. 'Ah yes- puts hair on your chest, that does!'

'I don't need any more hair on my chest, thanks...' Porthos replied, fighting off an urge to put his handkerchief over his nose. 'Worst smell in the world, that is. Can't stand it.'

'Well, hopefully we'll just be in and out- right, Athos?' d'Artagnan muttered, flattening down his hair as a gust of salty wind blew over their heads. The squalling of seagulls were almost deafening as the four men trudged down the hill.

The docks were just up ahead, and beyond was the sea- it was a windy day today, but the weather was dry and warm; a fine day for fishing. Athos nodded to the younger man, before clearing his throat.

'If Clement had done as he promised, we should be back in the city in an hour. If not...we may be some time.' Their mission today was to collect the debt of a long-standing but downtrodden friend of the King. Clement supplied the Palace with fish and other seafood, but had fallen on hard times in the last few years- a strong storm last winter had flooded most of the lower docks, and had rendered his production warehouse unusable for three months as his men cleared the debris.

The King had loaned Clement enough money to get him back on his feet, and the man had agreed to pay him back in full after the summer season was over. It was now two months since then, and no money had changed hands.

The King was loathe to create trouble with the fishing merchant; after all his was very fond of the lobster that was supplied to him at Yuletide. The Cardinal, of course, was less forgiving, and- after many days of talking to the King- had finally persuaded the Monarch to ask for his money back.

So, here the the Musketeers were, heading down to speak to him; they finally reached the road that held numerous warehouses, for both the fish and the equipment, and the office-like building at the top that Clement worked from.

'This should be fun...'Aramis muttered darkly as Porthos opened the door for them. The other man chuckled and rolled his eyes. 'You can stand at the front, Mis,' he muttered.

'Why thank you, my friend...'Aramis grumbled, hesitantly taking his place.

'What's wrong?' the Gascon asked Aramis, arching an eyebrow as they went in.

'Well, Clement is hardly known for-'

'WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU LOT DOING HERE?!'

'-Subtlety.' Aramis finished with a sigh. 'Brace yourself, lad...'he whispered to D'artagnan, standing up straighter as a very angry man started walking towards them, face already incandescent with rage. ' You're about to get wet...'

'Why?' the younger man asked, but no sooner had he said it, Clement was standing in front of them.

Clement Perrin was all moustache and very little face- his impressive facial hair quivered as he bared his teeth angrily at the Musketeers in front of him. 'Oh, so when I don't pay up the King sends down his heavies, is that it?!' he bellowed, sending spit flying into the faces of the Musketeers- Aramis wiped a glob off his cheek with distaste, but said nothing as Clement continued his tirade.

'...Well it's not going to work on me- YOU HEAR ME! I pay my debts as promised!'

'The King has sent several messages regarding payment, Sir,' Athos said, voice light. 'We are simply here to ask if you have received them.'

'COURSE I BLOODY HAVE!' Clement yelled, reaching into his deep pockets and pulling out three or four letters bearing royal insignia.

'Excellent sir- please can you advise us of when you would be clearing the debt?'

Athos' tone did nothing to calm down the man in front of them- he went beetroot red and his eyes narrowed dangerously. 'You trying to be funny?' he cried out, shaking his head. 'You trying to make me feel stupid?!'

'Of course not, Sir...' Aramis interjected, now very aware that all of the workers in the warehouse they were standing in were now standing and watching them; each man carried a filleting knife, and they all were looking as angry as Clement.

'We just need to let the King know his letters are being received, and that you will make good on your commitment- how about a small donation of the debt, to let him know you are prepared to pay?'

'Tell you what- you can give the King this...' Clement started, before spitting on Aramis' boot. The medic looked down and sniffed, before looking back up to the merchant. 'I'd only cleaned them this morning,' he told him, shaking his head.

'I ain't got the money.' Clement growled, face still purple with anger. 'I need some more time.'

'Unfortunately, your time is now up, Sir.' Athos muttered, reaching into his own pocket and pulling out a new letter. 'The King has decreed that if you cannot pay your debt, as promised by your good self, then he has given us permission to remove goods to amount to the size of the debt.'

'You what?' a man to the left of Clement started, walking over next to the merchant and shaking his head. 'You're not taking anything from here, we won't let you!'

'Calm down son, they're only pulling our legs...' Clement chuckled darkly, looking from one Musketeer to the other. 'Aren't you? Just having yourselves a little joke.'

'I'm afraid not Sir- here is the letter as proof.' Athos handed over the letter and stepped back, looking around. Porthos breathed in deeply as he watched Clement and his son read over the letter, their faces getting darker and darker with each passing second.

The atmosphere had changed; you could now cut the tension with a knife. 'This- you can't do this to me; I've got a business to run!' Clement shouted, shaking his head.

'This was the terms of the debt you signed with the King- would you like to see a copy of it?'

'DON'T GET FUNNY WITH ME!' Clement yelled, before ripping the letter from the King into bits and throwing it in Athos' face. 'If any of you touch anything in here, I'll gut you. Understood?!'

'Steady, Sir,' Aramis placated. 'We're only doing our jobs,'

Clement barked out a laugh before taking two steps forward to the medic so their noses were almost touching. 'If you touch- _anything-_ in here...I will cut you into little pieces and put you in the dock...' he muttered, eyes so dark Athos swore they turned black. 'Do you understand me?'

'Back off, Sir..' Aramis spoke in the same dark tone, standing his ground. 'Or I will make you- do you understand me?'

Clement breathed out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. 'Come on then, pretty boy- you think you can take me on?' he stepped back.

'I'm not interested in fi-' Aramis' breath was knocked out of him as Clement pushed him hard in the chest in challenge.'

'You think you can come in here, with your fancy papers and your threats?!' he yelled, a muscle in his jaw jumping as the Musketeers drew their swords. Porthos steadied Aramis as he got his breath back, his face now angry as he looked at the merchant.

'Oh, you lot going to show your true colours now?' he goaded, a horrible smile on his face. 'You gonna fight all of us for some bits of equipment and some fishing nets?'

'You have half an hour to come up with some funds- if when we come back there is nothing- We will be taking items of value away!' Athos growled, voice steady. 'You're lucky we're not taking you in for assault on a Musketeer as well!'

'Get out of my warehouse!' Clement yelled, shaking his head as he stepped forwards, fists raised. 'Get out!'

'We will be back in half an hour!' Athos promised, kicking the door open. 'Be ready for us!'

* * *

'Well, that went as well as could be expected.' Aramis reasoned, massaging his chest as he leant against the wooden railing of the dock, breathing in the salty air.

'Hmm..'Athos replied, shaking his head. 'Let's hope he comes up with the money...I don't fancy taking armfuls of fishing nets to the King as a trade for the money.'

Aramis laughed, nodding his agreement, before rolling his eyes as he spotted Porthos and d'Artagnan coming up to them, small pots in their hands.

'Been shopping?' he asked lightly as Porthos stood next to him.

'Cockle?' the bigger man offered.

'I beg your pardon?' Armais asked, pretending to look affronted.

'Cockle?' Porthos repeated with a dirty grin on his face, before pushing a small pot into his friend's hand.

'No thank you,' Aramis muttered, turning his nose up as he handed the pot back. 'Seafood does nothing for me.'

'Except when you get a bad welk, eh Mis?' Athos chuckled as Aramis paled at the mere memory.

'The matron had to throw away her bedpans, I hear..' Porthos nodded, sucking the sauce off his Cockle before popping it into his mouth. 'All four of them...'

'Please stop talking about it...' Aramis muttered, groaning as his cheeks started to grow pink.

He sighed and looked back to the docks- he had been watching a small shipment of gunpowder being delivered with interest. His Uncle had been a dockworker and had often taken him down to the ships of an evening as he worked; Aramis was fascinated by it all, and could often spend whole afternoons down by the docks even now, just watching.

The men were like a well-oiled machine; he watched them carefully co-ordinate the three large boxes of gunpowder as they were lifted from the ships and onto the wooden slats of the docks. It was tiring and hard work, and he had utmost respect for those that did it.

'You reckon its been half an hour?' Porthos finally asked when he had finished, wiping his mouth.

'Probably,' Athos nodded, before sighing. 'Lets go and get spat on some more.'

It was a good five minute's walk back to Clement's warehouse; as they turned the corner to walk back up to the door Aramis noticed it was ajar, yet no one seemed to be in the room.

'I'm not liking this, Athos,' Aramis said at once, hand reaching for his Musket. 'It's too quiet.'

Athos nodded, before slowly opening the door the rest of the way. 'Clement?' he called. Nothing.

'Show yourself Clement. Lets just talk this through!'

'We're not unreasonable!' Porthos called, voice echoing around.

'Lets go back- come back with more reinforcements...' Aramis muttered- every instinct was telling him to turn back, to rethink the plan.

'I'm not coming back here another day for this man...' Athos shook his head. 'Lets have a quick look- if he's made a run for it, we can call it a day, alright?'

'Alright-' Aramis muttered, taking a step into the darkened room. The room was dark and empty- Aramis didn't like this one bit. 'No one here..' he muttered, shaking his head.

The door suddenly slammed shut behind them- Clement stepped out from the shadows, a terrible smile on his face and a large gun in his hands, aimed squarely at the Musketeers.

'Come back to steal from me?' he whispered, face now ashen, eyes almost popping from their sockets. It looked like he had now bypassed anger and had gone straight for insanity.

'We just want to talk to you, Clement.' Athos raised both his hands to chest height, eyeing the gun in the man's hands. 'Lets just put the gun down and we can have a nice chat.'

'Are you going to take my things?'

'We...have our orders from the King.'

'Then I can't let you leave- Thomas, bar the door.' The Musketeers turned as the man from before- Clement's son- strode over to the door, locked it and brought a heavy iron bar over it, locking them in.

'You're making a mistake,' Aramis muttered, voice dark. 'This can only end badly for you.'

'You think so?' Clement's voice was equally dark, and dripping with sarcasm. He cocked the gun, the noise sending shivers down Porthos' spine as he eyed the room for any possible exit. 'I'm the one holding the gun, not you.'

'What do you hope to accomplish here?'d'Artagnan asked.

'I think the King would like the safe return of his Musketeers a lot more than his money.'

Aramis held in a disbelieving chuckle, instead he frowned as Clement chuckled and began speaking again- suddenly there was a blinding flash from outside, coupled with a thunderous roar. Before anyone could speak or raise their arms to protect themselves the walls and ceiling seemed to collapse with a huge force. Each man was lifted from their feet and thrown backwards; blasted backwards, Aramis' vision clouded as dust suddenly plumed around them, and the last thing he saw before he hit his head and was thrown into unconsciousness was Porthos falling through the floor and disappearing from view entirely.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, please review!**

 **Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about 'Brothers In Arms'- this has just been on my computer for months, so I figures I may as well upload it!**

 **It's only about 5 chapters long so its a bit shorter than my usual multi-chapters fics :)**

 **Next chapter up soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness and silence enveloped the scene as seconds, then minutes, trickled past. After a few minutes shouts and screams permeated the air outside, but inside Clement's fishing warehouse, there was no noise- Athos' eyes flickered opened, before he blinked as dust entered them, making his eyes water.

He groaned out as he tried to move himself, so for now he settled for his awkward position leaning up against a piece of broken ceiling- closing his eyes again he coughed into the dust cloud, his ribs immediately firing with pain. Sucking in as much of a breath as his broken ribs would allow he opened his dust-encrusted eyes again and looked round.

The explosion had torn the building they were in completely asunder- lengths of broken floorboard and ceiling alike peppered the floor, haphazardly leaning against tables and the broken brick walls. Dust coated the entire floor, and a great cloud was still hovering in the air, making Athos' eyes sore as he looked around for his brothers in the wreckage.

'D'artagnan?' he called, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. 'Aramis? Porthos?' he groaned again, shaking his head as pain washed over him.

'Hnnnmm.' He heard a moan from somewhere close to him- he turned awkwardly, throwing out a hand to probe the darkness around him.

'Aramis?' he called out, noticing for the first time a figure, bathed in brown dust, lying trapped under a pile of broken floorboard and ceiling. 'Mis?'

'Mmmmnn...'Aramis groaned out again as he craned his neck to look for Athos. 'H-here...'

'Oh God- talk to me, are you alright?' Athos asked, moving as much as his ribs would allow. He hitched in a breath as pain flourished in his shoulder too; he looked across at it and almost balked as he saw his shoulder was now at a very peculiar angle, obviously dislocated.

'No...not al-alright...' Aramis groaned out again, a small whine of pain escaping as he tried to move his right leg. It answered with a thrill of agony, and Aramis looked round to find it, along with the rest of his body, pinioned under a heavy piece of ceiling that had fallen on top of him when he fell through the first floor.

'Quite sure my leg is broken, and I''m trapped under this blasted ceiling.' he reported, closing his eyes and laying his head against the dusty floor. 'How about you?' he asked, voice muffled as he tried to breathe through the pain.

'Broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder...' Athos replied,pain flourishing with each word and breath, 'Where's Porthos and D'artagnan?'

'I...' Aramis' voice trailed off as he lifted his head back up, eyes wide in horror and worry as he looked around for his friends. 'Porthos!' he called, before coughing as he inhaled the cloud of dust.

'D'artagnan!'

The two of them listened for a few seconds, panic rising as all they heard was silence. Athos looked round- the back of the building was still intact, although the glass had been smashed from their frames and the plaster was now exposed at some points. This meant that the explosion, or whatever it was, had happened by the docks at the front of the building.

'Porthos!' Aramis called out again. 'Talk to me!' his voice cracked as fear encircled his throat. He had to be alright, he just had to be...

'What the bloody hell happened?!' suddenly Porthos' voice boomed into the wreckage, loud, brash and the most beautiful sound Aramis had ever heard in his life.

He gave a high, breathy laugh and shook his head.'I have never been so glad to hear your voice, my friend!' he called. 'How are you?'

'A bit of wall hit me on the head, but apart from that I'm good,' Porthos called back, blinking blood from his eyes as he looked up at the afternoon sky, where once there had been ceiling.

'I'll be the judge of that!' Aramis replied, still trying to locate him in the cloud of dust as it slowly began to settle.

'Where's D'artagnan?' Athos asked, looking round. 'Where is he?'

'Come on, lad! Talk to us!' Porthos yelled, before dizziness enveloped him and he had to lay back and try not to be sick.

'There!' Athos called, nodding to a prone figure just ahead of him and Aramis. The Gascon was unconscious and bleeding from a cut to his head. 'D'artagnan wake up!' He called, to no avail- the youngest Musketeer was facing the two of them, yet his face was caked in dust and was flecked with blood; his eyes were closed, out for the count.

'What the hell happened out there?' Porthos repeated his question into the room as he tried to heave himself into a sitting position. His head span and he had to swallow hard to stop himself heaving his breakfast onto the broken floorboards next him. Maybe he wasn't alright after all, he mused.

'Don't know...' Aramis muttered, before he groaned in pain as he tried to edge himself from under the fallen ceiling. There was an ominous sounding creak for somewhere above him- he awkwardly looked up, blinking dust of his eyes as he saw a large beam was also pressed up against the fallen ceiling...if he moved even an inch it would fall, certainly crushing him and perhaps even Athos in the process.

'Some sort of explosion,' he added before resting his face on the floor, hoping he didn't get a splinter in his cheek.

'But from what?' Athos replied, frowning. 'What could cause this much damage?'

They both heard Porthos huff in confusion before silence fell once more. They could hear movement outside, could hear shouting and hollering from various people as they tried to look for loved ones and friends in the debris.

From Porthos' position, leant up against a broken wall, he could see outside and the pandemonium that was transpiring- he could count at least for other flattened buildings and warehouses in his eyeline, along with some upright buildings with the glass windows smashed in.

Aramis looked up as he heard a cough in front of him- he looked instantly to D'artagnan, but frowned as he saw the Gascon was still unconscious. He turned with a groan and saw Clement rising from the dust, rubbing his head.

'You alright?' he called over- no matter what their job was before, Clement and his men were still members of the public, and they needed to be looked after. 'Clement?'

'What...what the hell happened?' the older man asked, before he sneezed and brushed dust from his huge moustache.

'Explosion, down by the docks I'd guess,' Athos filled him in, before he levered himself into a semi-sitting position and looked round again.

'Explosion? From what?' Clement's voice was seriously jarring to Aramis, despite him knowing he had to be the authority figure in this situation.

'We don't know...' he muttered, before growling in frustration and pain as he leg throbbed in pain. Surely people should be here now, to help rescue them or at least try to help?

As he watched Athos crawl slowly and painfully across to D'artagnan he cast his mind back to earlier in the day, to any sort of clue as to how this happened.

It came back to him in a dizzying flash- it had to be the only reason, he figured. There was no other explanation.

'The gunpowder.' he muttered, before coughing into the floor; his back and ribs ached with each expulsion of breath, causing his breaths to hitch.

'Eh?' Porthos called back, a confused tone to his voice.

'Remember we saw those barrels of gunpowder being loaded into the dock? They must have exploded.'

'Gunpowder doesn't just _explode_.' Clement replied, his voice akin to that of talking to a small child.

'I know that!' Aramis growled, watching as the older man stood up, rubbing his head as he looked around. 'There must have been a fire, or a spark...'

'Thomas?' Clement called, trying to spot his son in the debris. 'Thomas?'

'Clement you need to go and get help- this building could fall at any minute, we ne-'

'I need to find my son!' Clement snapped, eyes flashing at the men.

'We'll all be dead if you don't go and raise the alarm!' Athos snarled, a hand on D'artagnan's neck as he checked his pulse.

'Is he alright?' Aramis muttered, a cold dread filling him. The seconds trickled by painfully; each musketeer held their breath as they watched the two men.

Finally Athos sat back, relief in his eyes as he looked across to Aramis. 'He's alive.'

'Thank God...' Aramis whispered, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them and turning back to Clement.

'If you go and find help we can all help to find your son!' he said, trying to keep his tone light but authoritative. 'Please.'

'I need to find him- he could be outside, he could have managed to get out...' Clement babbled, and Aramis could see the bubbling panic and fear setting in, surpassing any anger malevolence to the Musketeers.

'If you help us we can help you!' he called, shaking his head as Clement merely walked backwards, his eyes wide as he looked round the room. He stepped over broken bricks and snapped floorboards; the sound of crunching glass set Aramis' teeth on edge. 'I need to find my son first! He could be dead for all you know!'

'Clement!' The Medic shouted, his leg protesting as he tried to slowly edged forwards. 'Clement I know you're scared but we need your help!' his own eyes widened as he saw the older man stumble for the door, now slightly warped and bereft of glass. 'Clement you need to get help!' his voice hitched in panic as Clement did no more than disappear through the door, slamming it closed behind him.

Dust slowly fell from the ceiling as the force of the slamming door knocked it...silence descended once again.

'Well...' Athos groaned, leaning backwards, his eyes squeezed shut as his broken ribs moved agonisingly. His shoulder throbbed under his uniform, but, looking round at the creaking building, he knew that at the moment they had bigger things to worry about.

'…..What do we do now?'

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Next chapter will be posted soon! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Captain Treville withheld a sigh as he walked the perimeter of the palace, hands clasped behind him as he walked the requisite four steps behind the King and Queen as they made their afternoon stroll around the gardens.

The morning had been long, boring and uneventful. The Cardinal was in his office on important business of the state, so he didn't even have a opportunity to chide him and try to get a rise from him... he looked round; the sun was high, the wind was soft, with a soft perfume of flowers in the breeze.

From a protecting-the-royals-from-danger viewpoint, today was one of the most perfect days Treville had ever encountered. From a do-something-to-make-the-time-pass-quicker viewpoint, the day was seriously lacking.

The King had spent a good portion of the morning at his breakfast table, so they had only just ventured outside to get some fresh air; he watched as the two royals walked slowly around the edge of the garden, stopping every so often to sniff a bloom or look out towards the lower city.

He was just about to open his mouth to suggest a stroll to the lake when Pierre, one of his musketeers, ran out from the palace door, eyes wide as he tried to spot his Captain.

'What's happened?' The king asked as Pierre finally spotted them and ran towards them, coming to a stop next to Treville, breathing heavily as if he'd just run a mile.

'Whatever is the matter?' the King asked again, his own eyes wide as he looked from Treville to Pierre. 'Speak, man!'

'There was an explosion at the docks, Your Highness!' Pierre reported, face shining with sweat. 'Buildings flattened, glass and rubble everywhere!' he swallowed as he turned to Treville. 'I don't know how many dead yet, or injured.'

Treveille nodded, feeling himself fall into the authoritative role as the King stared up at him, and put a hand on Pierre's shoulder. 'We must create a cordon and get medical assistance down as soon as possible-go and call the others and send them down there; tell Athos to-' he stopped, heart thudding. He recalled the mission the King had sent the four of them on that morning- they were all in the docks right now.

He stepped forwards, addressing the King and Queen with a short bow. 'Your Majesties, I must go - four of my men are trapped alongside probably many others...I will co-ordinate the rescue effort from the docks.'

'Of course, go,' Anne replied, nodding, eyes full of concern. 'We will send some Red Guards and as many men as we can.'

'Thank you, my lady,' Treville nodded his thanks, before he and Pierre took off down the gravel, down to the garrison to prepare his men.

* * *

Aramis sighed into the silence of the warehouse and gingerly tried to move his good leg out from under the fallen ceiling- he felt the debris on top of him tremble and creak as his movement threatened to jar them loose.

He quickly put his leg back into the position it originally was in- he didn't want anything to drop on his head. The world outside was still bustling with shouts, calls and groaning; it was now coupled with the sounds of bricks and rubble being moved from the area.

'Where do you suppose Clement has gone?' he muttered, wincing as he settled down as much as his leg would allow him to. It had been at least ten minutes since he had slammed the door and ran off to find his son.

'Does it matter?' Athos asked, sweeping his hand under D'artagnan's hair so he could get a better look at the wound on his head. 'He's gone and he's not coming back'. He added, before putting his hand under the Gascon's nose to check he was still breathing. 'Wake up, Lad...' he whispered, eyes creased in concern. The wound on his head had stopped bleeding, but a large lump had formed just above the hairline; he needed it checked out as soon as possible.

He sat back with a groan as his shoulder protested. He looked round as the muffled yells and shouts continued outside. 'Why do you suppose no one has checked this building for survivors yet?' he mused aloud, into the silence of the room, putting a hand to his aching ribs. 'It's been quite a long time.'

Aramis snorted, but soon wished he didn't as the movement jarred his leg. 'I suppose we are in quite an isolated part of the docks...' he replied in a pained voice. 'And don't forget who this building belongs to!' he added, catching Athos' eye. Everyone knew Clement was the most hated merchant on the dockside; his arrogance, greed and attitude was well-known to everyone who came into contact with him.

'Yes, they will probably check this place last, just to ensure a good possibility that he's dead.' he nodded with a wry smile, only half-joking. He hoped that that wasn't going to be the case. They needed help- and fast.

He turned his head as he heard Porthos groaning somewhere to his side. 'You alright?' he called, blinking dust from his eyes as he tried to get a better view.

Porthos sat up a bit, his head pounding- he guessed a bit of the ceiling must've hit him in the head as he fell down, or perhaps he hit it on the floor when he landed? He couldn't remember. All he knew was that he just wanted a good lie-down and to close his eyes against the glare of the outside world.

He knew that right at this moment that was impossible, so instead he settled for attempting to clamber up into a standing position to see how he could help.

'Porthos?' he heard Aramis call, voice heightened with concern.

'Yeah?' he replied, gritting his teeth as he grasped onto a bit of broken ceiling and began heaving himself up- his head felt foggy and pain flourished at the top of his head.

'Are you alright?'

'….No...' he admitted as he finally stood up, exhaling loudly in pain and exertion as he blinked in the sunshine. 'But you know me, I'll live.'

'How's your head?'

'Painful, but we'll worry about that later,' he grimaced, taking a tentative step forwards- he yelped and fell on to one knee as he immediately stepped onto a broken piece of brick and overbalanced.

'….Are you still alright?' he heard Aramis ask.

'Shut up,' he chuckled, although his head felt like it was in a vice. 'Give me a minute.' He added as he sat back down, his legs shaking.

Athos, meanwhile, was trying to rouse D'artagnan again- he shook his shoulder a little, but all he got in return was a low moan and no movement.

'Come on lad, open your eyes.' he muttered, frowning. At least he was making a noise now, he thought to himself, rather than lying there like a corpse. He turned to Aramis, who was surveying the scene with a look of frustration on his face, since he was trapped and could offer no physical help at all. 'What's the matter with him?' he asked, sitting back with a hiss of pain. 'Why isn't he waking up?'

'Could be concussion, or he could have just been hit really hard on the head and is merely unconscious.' The medic muttered. 'Where's Clement gone?!' he cried, a growl escaping him as pain erupted in his broken leg again.

'He's not coming back, I told you,' Athos muttered, scorn in his voice. 'He's saving his own skin.'

'I know he said he was looking for his son, but he could have raised an alarm too!'

Athos nodded slowly, his eyes dark. He sat up a little straighter, hissing in pain as his ribs moved again. Even breathing made his sides hurt; he wiped his nose from the layer of dust that had fallen on his face to try and quell the risk of a sneeze or a coughing fit; he thought that might just finish him off.

'I'll go get help...' he muttered after a few seconds, before trying to lever himself up.

'You're not going anywhere Athos- try and move as little as possible!' Aramis muttered, voice authoritative as Athos continued to try to move.

'I can't just sit here while we wait for the ceiling to come down on our heads!' he replied, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

'Alright- you try and get up and then clamber over all these rocks and broken floorboards and try and make it to the door.' Aramis said, voice slightly higher with sarcasm. 'See how far you get before you keel over!'

Athos finally slumped back down as his dislocated shoulder flourished again in agony. 'Can't just sit here...' he muttered, now more to himself as frustration filled his body. 'Where's help?!' he growled into the silence.

'I'll go and get help.' Porthos muttered after a few seconds, heaving himself up again.

'Porthos you can't go- you're in just a bad a state as Athos!' Aramis called out. 'If either of you hurt yourselves or collapse I can only watch and I cannot do a thing about it!'

Porthos sat down again, his legs trembling as his head swam. He put a shaky hand to the cut on his head, feeling sticky blood on his fingers. 'Perhaps you're right...'

'I know I'm right!' Aramis called from the floor, shaking his head. He looked up at the ceiling above him, eyes creased in concern as he heard the wooden beam groan. He hoped help would come soon- he didn't know how long it would stay up for.

'What if that beam falls down?' Athos asked, an air of panic in his voice, as if reading his mind.

'Then I get squashed, I'm afraid...' Aramis tried to joke through his unease. 'And that would really put a dampener on my day, I assure you.'

'We can't just _sit here_...'

'On the contrary, I am _lying here_...' Aramis corrected with a forced smile.

Athos rolled his eyes, but was nevertheless grateful for the humour Aramis was projecting. He sighed deeply, before looking down as D'artagnan coughed and his eyes slowly flickered open.

'It's alright lad, stay still...' he instructed as he watched the Gascon's eyes widen and his fingers curled into fists as he surveyed his surroundings. 'You've had a nasty bump on the head and I need you stay still.'

'W-what happened?' the younger man asked, before he moaned deep in his throat and put a hand to his head.

'An explosion, somewhere in the docks...' Athos muttered, putting a hand on his chest to steady him as he tried to move.

'How is he?' Aramis called out, craning his neck to see D'artagnan and assess him. 'Is he alright?'

'How do you feel?' Athos asked, eyes creased in concern.

The Gascon massaged his head with a shaky hand, before groaning. 'My head hurts.'

'I guessed as much,' Athos replied. 'Do you feel sick? Does anywhere else hurt? Are you lightheaded?' he pushed, remembering vague conversations he'd had with Aramis when he had hit his head before.

'I...' D'artagnan stopped and internally assessed himself. His head was blooming in a near-constant wave of pain, and he did feel quite light-headed. He closed his eyes as a tide of sickness coursed through him, causing him to rapidly swallow to avoid him emptying his stomach of his breakfast in front of Athos.

'I don't feel too good.' he reported in a pained voice as the nausea subsided.

'I don't expect you do,' Athos patted his chest. 'Just lie still...' he added, before looking up at Aramis, who was still craning his neck to check the younger man for injuries. 'I think he just hit his head, but he looks pale and says he doesn't feel too good.'

'Damn...' Aramis whispered to himself, before he rested his chin on the dusty ground again. 'Sounds like concussion.' He called to Athos, who nodded in reply.

'How about you, Porthos?' Athos muttered, watching as Porthos tried to lever himself back up, before he clutched his head and sat back down. 'Just stay still! We don't want you doing yourself any more damage!'

'I wanted to go and get help...' The larger man groaned.

'I know, and we appreciate the thought, but if you keel over none of us can help!' Aramis replied, before he gingerly put both hands flat on the ground and tried to move himself upwards to quell the ache on his ribs from lying on the hard ground for so long.

'Aramis, why don't you- ARAMIS DON'T MOVE ANY MORE!' Athos cried, eyes wide as he looked up. Aramis followed his gaze; the wooden beam was moving, ever so slightly.

'Damn, damn, damn...' he muttered urgently, cursing himself as he slowly moved back into the flat position he had been in. 'Better?' he asked, eyes squeezed shut. If he was going to get crushed he didn't want to watch the blasted thing come down.

'Don't move any more, you idiot!' Athos muttered, looking back up. The beam seemed to have stabilised again, thank God. 'You almost had it right on top of you!'

'Sorry...' Aramis muttered, resting his head back on the dusty ground. They all stayed in silence for a few minutes, permeated only by coughing and the occasional groan of pain from Porthos as he tried to move into a standing position again.

The afternoon slowly turned to evening- Athos heaved himself up as frustration overtook good sense. He had to get help, whatever it took. They couldn't just sit here and await their fate.

'Athos where y-you going?' D'artagnan muttered, eyes half-open as he fought another wave of sickness.

'Night will soon be upon us.' Athos replied, clutching his shoulder. ' And those storm clouds do not care on what situation they unleash their rain-If this area is not searched soon then we will all die for sure.' he added, pointing up at the exposed sky. 'I must find help.'

'Athos how many times do I have to say? You-' Aramis began, before all four men looked round as they heard someone approach the warehouse.

'Here! In here!' Athos called, coughing as he breathed in some more dust. 'We're in here!'

'Dad?' a vaguely familiar voice called out. 'Dad?!'

'Thomas?' Aramis called. It was Clement's son. 'Thomas!'

'Dad!' Thomas shouted again- they heard someone stumble over the large bricks and other rubble, before Thomas entered the room. He looked round at the four men, his eyes searching every nook and cranny of the room. 'Is my dad in here?' he asked, voice high.

'He ran off without getting help to go and look for you.' Athos replied.

'So he's alive?'

'Last time we saw him, yes.'

'I've been searching everywhere, I-'

'Thomas, have the search parties come down this far yet?' Aramis asked, teeth beginning to chatter against the coldness as night began to draw in.

'He must have gone back round, he-'

'Thomas please!' Aramis shouted, anger threatening to come through. 'We need help! Please go and get help!'

'I need to find my dad!' Thomas shouted.

'Oh for pities-we will help you find your father once we are free, we promise!' the Medic growled. 'You need to raise help!'

But Thomas was already backing out of the room, eyes still roving the area for his dad. 'Please!' Porthos shouted out, his head swimming.

'If I see anyone I'll tell them to come in here!' Thomas muttered, to which Athos nodded thanks. They watched as Thomas finally made it to the door that Clement had gone out of- 'Don't close it!' Aramis asked, conscious that any movement could move the beam.

Either Thomas hadn't heard him, or he had heard him and didn't really care. Nevertheless as he crossed the door he slammed it shut, causing the broken walls around it to shudder. Dust fell down from the ceiling as the movement travelled round the debris and rubble.

Aramis looked up as he heard an ominous sounding creak- he looked across to Athos; both men's mouths formed an O of panic and fear as they sought each other's eyes.

'Move Aramis, move!' Athos yelled as the beam started shifting in its precarious position. Aramis scrabbled as fast as he could, groaning loudly as he forced his broken leg forwards, over bricks and pieces of wood. His fingertips exploded in pain as he used his hands to heave himself forwards over the rubble as fast he could.

Athos could see as soon as his friend started moving that he wasn't going to make it without help. He heaved himself forwards, ignoring the pain that spread like acid through his shoulder as he scrambled to help Aramis; just as he threw out his good arm so Aramis could catch hold the beam finally collapsed, the broken ceiling disintegrating into dust and debris as it toppled downwards.

'No! Aramis!' he shouted, voice cracking as he scrambled backwards to avoid the beam that mercifully fell to the left, and not forwards- the small area of trapped ceiling, however, fell straight down.

Through the orange light of the setting sun the dust that had been created whirled around, clouding the scene and causing Athos to choke as he inhaled it. 'Aramis!' he shouted, shaking his head as more rocks and ceiling was dislodged and fell to the ground. 'Aramis!'

As the movement finally stopped a horrible silence fell- three pairs of disbelieving eyes fell on the pile of rocks and rubble that now covered their friend as dust continued to swirl around the room.

 **Next chapter up soon!**

 **Don't worry- I'm not in the habit of writing death fics, but that's not to say it's going to be easy!**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed- please review!**

 **X**


	4. Chapter 4

D'artagan groaned out as he twisted his body round to face the pile of rubble that covered their friend- his head swam as he forced himself upwards and into a sitting position, eyes wide as he took in the scene in front of him; Athos, his face and hair caked in dust, was scrabbling with one hand to try and get as much of the debris off him as possible, muttering under his breath as he did so.

The Gascon was just about to pull himself forwards to help Athos when he felt a large hand on his shoulder to ground him to the floor. Porthos, a hand to his own blood-stained head, looked down at him.

'Stay down, Lad,' he told him, his own eyes wide as he looked up to their two friends in front of them. 'Don't want you getting hurt too!' D'artagan was about to angrily retort that of course he was going to help,why wouldn't he help? when his head swam in such a dizzying way that he had to close his eyes and bring a hand to his mouth to stop himself from vomiting.

He sat back down gingerly, feeling his arms and legs shake as the wave of sickness slowly abated. He felt his eyes flicker shut as darkness pulled into his vision; he had to stay awake...had to...

'Good lad,' Portos muttered, although he knew the younger man was in a bad way, before gripping D'artagnan's shoulder and using it to push himself forwards, where he fell to his knees beside Athos and began to dig at the rubble covering Aramis. They could deal with D'artagnan in a second- Aramis needed help now.

'Come on, come on...' Athos was panting, the mantra filling the air as the two men scrabbled at the broken bricks, not caring as their hands and fingers were cut open by the debris and blood dribbled into the dust.

'Come on Aramis...' Porthos cried, ignoring the pounding in his head as much as he could as he used his brute strength to haul the large bricks and dumped them to his side.

Every second counted, he knew, and those precious seconds were falling away fast- he swallowed hard as he felt a sickness and dread swirl in his stomach that had nothing to do with his head injury.

 _He couldn't lose him...none of them could lose him...not now..._

Athos, his dislocated shoulder and ribs on fire with agony, shook his head as he used his one good hand to pull off the bricks; he heart leapt as his hand brushed against a human softness against the rubble. 'Aramis!' he cried, pulling himself forwards as he moved more rocks and saw the Medic's dust-covered hand poking out of the rubble.'Aramis... Aramis..' he muttered, his teeth chattering with pain and panic as he and Porthos dug with all their might, finally uncovering their friend bit by bit. His face was plastered with dust and blood, his eyes closed, his face peaceful, like he was sleeping.

'Aramis,can you hear me?'Athos breathed, eyes wide as they continued to pull large bricks off his back and legs. 'Aramis!'

D'artagnan hauled himself forwards, feeling his head throb in a sickening pain, and was about to throw caution to the wind and help Aramis even if it meant he keeled over, when he heard shouts and raised voices coming from outside. Very familiar voices.

'That's Treville!' he cried, although he knew Athos and Porthos weren't listening. He turned and took a deep breath, feeling his head pound as he did so. 'Sir, in here!' he shouted. He waited a few seconds before shouting again, his voice scratching before the dust around the room caused him to cough.

The door to Clement's warehouse opened, causing some of the bricks to skitter down the room as the door banged into them. 'Are you in here?' Treville called as he walked in- his eyes widened as he took in the scene in front of him. He dropped the spade he was carrying and ran forwards, pulling off his cloak and dumping it on the floor before falling to his knees beside Athos and Porthos where he started helping pulling the rest of the rubble off Aramis.

'My god, what happened here?' he muttered, voice high with panic as he looked down at Aramis with his heart in his mouth.'How the hell did this happen?'

'Some sort of explosion in the docks,' Athos filled him in as they dug. Most of Aramis was now uncovered- they had to be careful to remove the bricks from his broken leg, but Athos didn't even want to think of the damage that the bricks had done to him. 'We have to get him out now!' he cried.

'Come on lad, come on...' Treville muttered, before putting a hand under his neck to check was still breathing.

'He's alive, right?' Porthos asked, his finger-tips stinging from moving the bricks. 'Sir?'

Treville stayed silent for a few seconds, his eyes only on Aramis' face as he checked his pulse.

'Treville?' Athos growled as he removed the last of the bricks from Aramis' feet.

'He's alive,' the Captain finally confirmed, 'but barely- there's matrons outside helping the survivors. Pierre, tell them we need a stretcher and a clear route to the hospital.' he ordered his other man, before he looked across to D'artagnan, who was now lying on the ground, fighting to keep his eyes open and his lunch in his stomach. 'Bring one for the lad too!' he called, before the door shut as Pierre ran outside to gather more help.

'Is he going to be alright?' Athos asked, a high, panic-tinged tone to his voice. They looked down at Aramis, and could finally now see the damage that the collapse had done; his head was caked in blood above his hairline, indicating a fairly large wound to his head, or lots of little ones, Porthos wasn't sure.

His whole body was caked in white dust covering him like flour; his broken leg was stuck out at an awkward angle, and Athos realised with a jolt that his left hand was also broken. His uniform had rolled upwards, exposing his stomach and left hand-side; Athos could see large bruises were already blooming on his arms and stomach. 'God...' Treville muttered, sitting back and putting a shaky hand to his mouth- he looked across to Athos, their expressions of dread matching each other. 'He'll be alright Athos,' he muttered, putting a hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezing lightly. 'He'll be alright...'

All three men looked down as they heard deep groaning- Aramis' eyes flickered open, although they settled at a half-lidded position as he flexed his fingers on his right hand. He hissed in pain as he flexed his left; he felt a pressure on his forearm, gentle but strong, coupled with a muffled noise that seemed to make his body vibrate. It took him a few seconds to realise it was Athos, putting a hand on his arm and telling him not to move it too much.

'A...thos...?' he murmured, but even the movement of him talking made his ribs and whole body flare in pain. He relaxed back into the dust-covered floor, a relief flowing through him as he sensed more talking around him; he concentrated on the voices, his heart soaring as he heard Porthos telling him everything was going to be alright, that he was safe now and he'd get him home soon. He felt another hand on his shoulder, and soon Treville's voice trickled into his mind, telling him help would be coming soon.

'Dart...agnan...?' he breathed out the word, conscious he did not sense the Gascon around him. Where was he? Was he alright? He'd never forgive himself if something had happened to him...

'He's alright, Aramis,' he heard Athos reply, his deep voice soothing his concerns and simultaneously grounding him into the present as his consciousness started to ebb away.

'Good...good...' he muttered, eyes flickering shut again as a wave of pain and tiredness washed over him.

'No come on, stay awake... stay with us...' he heard Porthos say, although his voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. 'Keep your eyes open!'

He forced himself to open his stinging eyes, his whole body enveloping in pain as he felt Athos curl a hand onto his right wrist and hold it tight, whether to check his pulse or just to comfort him, he didn't know. 'Awake...' he whispered, giving Porthos' knees a smile, since he had no strength to look up to his face. 'Awake...'

'Good,' Porthos nodded, his voice cracking with emotion as he gently put a hand on Aramis' head.

'Where's that damn stretcher?' Treville growled, loathe to get up from Aramis' side to check on the progress. He looked down to D'artagnan, his eyes widening as he saw the younger man slumped on the ground, eyes shut.

'No, No- D'artagnan! Come on son, wake up... wake up...' he growled, scrambling towards him and catching a hold of his arm.'Come on lad...' he muttered, putting a hand on D'artagnan's cheek and gently moving his face. 'Wake up for me, there's a good lad...' he added- his heart soared when the Gascon's eyes slowly opened, his expression dazed. 'Good boy,' he nodded with a smile- he looked up as the door banged open again, heralding the arrival of Pierre and three matrons.

'About time!' he growled, although he felt instantly guilty as Pierre replied that there was over a hundred casualties outside. 'We need to get these two onto the stretchers and take them as fast as you can to the hospital.' he added a second late, fully aware that time was rapidly running out for both of them.

Athos refused to move as the matrons began to get ready to move Aramis onto the stretcher- he would have done, of course, had Aramis not grasped his wrist and held on tightly as he sensed unfamiliar movement around him.

'It's alright, I'm still here...' he told him as Porthos and Pierre got into position to lift Aramis onto the stretcher. 'They've come to take you to hospital.'

Aramis groaned out loudly as he was lifted; even the matrons scrunched up their eyes to the noise as it ricocheted round the room. Athos was forced to stand up despite the pain in his ribs and shoulder now reaching an unbearable level; Aramis was holding onto his hand so tight his fingers were turning blue. 'It's alright, it's alright...' he told him, his voice hitching with pain as he limped alongside Aramis. 'I'll be right behind you...' he told him finally when he realised he could no longer walk any more without the danger of collapsing himself. His heart broke as Aramis, despite the agony he was in, bodily turned to see where he had gone, before sinking back into the stretcher, eyes flickering shut again as he was taken out of the building.

Athos slumped next to a wall, using it to stabilise himself as his legs wobbled and threatened to go from under him. Treville grasped his arm and helped him remain upright as D'artagnan was lifted onto the next stretcher and carried to the door. 'Come on you two...' The Captain muttered, looking up at Porthos as he stumbled forwards, face ashen white from exhaustion and pain. 'Let's get you seen to as well.'

The three of them carefully made their way out of warehouse, Treville's eyes peeled for more stretchers to take Athos and Porthos up the hill and back to the main city.

'Oh my...' he heard Porthos exclaim as he and Athos took in the scene of devastation around them. Many of the buildings were either flattened or were damaged so much there could be no way to salvage them; glass and bricks littered the cobbled streets, with splintered wood scattered around. People milled around everywhere, checking every building for survivors, or helping bring out equipment or other high-value items. Athos shook his head, hardly able to take it in.

He looked round as a fellow Musketeer ran up to them and began talking to Treville. The Captain turned to them as the Musketeer ran off again, presumably to offer help to others wherever he could. 'John says there are more stretchers just up ahead- let's get you two to the hospital.'

Nodding in thanks, Athos and Porthos slowly made their way to the stretchers, their minds firmly on the men who they could see being walked up the hill up ahead of them, back to the city. He knew it would be a while before he saw them again; he only hoped they would be alright in the meantime.

 **Thanks for reading! Last chapter will be up soon!**

 **Please review!**

 **x**


	5. Chapter 5

Aramis awoke slowly and painfully three days later, the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains hurting his sore eyes; he blinked a couple of times and breathed out deeply as he felt a pulse begin behind his eyes already. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and to look around- the room was wreathed in silence and darkness; he looked to the thin curtain that was gently moving in the breeze and could just about make out a dark, starry sky in the world beyond.

As he lay in his comfortable bed his eyes wandered to the hospital room at large; it was quite big, but sparse. A portrait hung on the wall opposite his bed, with a large wardrobe just to the left- as Aramis peered round the semi darkness of the night his eyes came to rest on two shadows slumped in chairs, one on each side of his bed.

He at once recognised one of them to be Porthos, if not from his familiar size but from the sound of his deep snoring that he now realised filled the room. He smiled fondly at his friend's sleeping form, before his eyes flicked over to the shadow to his other side. He gave a small start as he realised the figure was not asleep as he had originally thought, but very much awake and staring at him, his eyes never leaving his face.

'Evening.' Athos muttered, his voice thick with tiredness.

'Hello,' Aramis replied, before he swallowed and cleared his throat. As Athos sat up a little straighter in his chair Aramis could see one arm was in a white sling, pinioned across his chest. 'You alright?' he asked him, nodding across at his arm.

Athos shrugged as he settled back down with a low hiss of pain. 'It'll heal.' He muttered, before sighing deeply and looking across to Aramis. 'We've been more worried about you.'

'Me? 'Aramis chuckled lightly, but stopped with a wince as his whole body protested. He inhaled a quick, pained breath, before relaxing back into his bed. 'It'll heal...' he muttered, eyes closed as his bruised body flared in pain. He gently moved his legs, his eyes creasing as he realised his left leg was encased in something hard, as was his left wrist.

'The surgeon managed to stabilise your broken bones.' Athos commented, as if reading his mind. 'He said it would take a few weeks to heal properly. You'll be out of action for most of those weeks with your wrist the way it is, I'm afraid.'

Aramis sighed at that, before he told himself it could be much worse. He could've died, he realised. A few week's rest would be a small consolation. 'How about you?' he said instead, looking back to Athos. 'And the others? How are they?'

'I'm fine, bar some bed rest for my ribs-'

'Which you are abiding to _so well_ , Athos.'

'Well, I can't stay in bed can I?' Athos growled, his mouth turned up as Aramis chuckled as much as his body allowed him to. 'I told Treville I'll spend more time in the garrison for a while, perhaps tending to the ledgers, if he must keep me from active duty.'

'Good idea.' Aramis nodded, feeling tiredness press behind his eyes despite the fact he had only just woken up. He stifled a yawn as Athos continued his report on the condition of Porthos and d'Artagnan, his eagerness to know of their welfare surpassing his need for sleep.

'd'Artagnan has been confined to his bed, less he incurs the wrath of Madame Bonacieux,' Athos said with a snort. The Gascon's head injury was worse than had been originally thought, so once he was discharged from the hospital Constance and Treville had conspired to ensure he took enough rest to recover. 'He should be allowed out again in the next couple of days,' Athos added, before looking across to the man on the other side of Pothos' bed. 'He hasn't left your side since you were brought in,' he recounted, to which Aramis smiled and shook his head. 'The Matrons even had to tend to his wound and affix the bandages onto his head in this room, so loathe was he to leave your bedside.'

'That sounds like Porthos.' Aramis smiled, before holding his chest and scrunching his eyes up in pain as he coughed and caused his ribs to flare in pain. As the sounds of the pained gasps filtered round the room Porthos' eyes snapped open before he sat up, as alert as a cat. 'Aramis?' he muttered, a wide smile filling his face as Aramis waved weakly at him as he sank into his pillows.

'I'm so glad to see you open your eyes!'

'Likewise, my friend,'Aramis smiled, the tiredness washing over again so much he felt his eyes flicker shut a couple of times.

'You need to rest- the surgeon said you would need many days of just sleep to let your body recover.' Athos muttered, picking up his hat and gloves from Aramis' bedside table.

'That sounds wonderful...'Aramis breathed, the softness of his pillows and the sound of crickets outside lulling him slowly but surely into dreamland.

'Come on Porthos- I daresay you need sleep too,' Athos said, standing up with a groan of pain as his own ribs protested against the movement. Three days of sleeping on a wooden chair had hardly done them much good, he mused to himself.

'What if he needs help?' Porthos asked, his eyes creased in concern as he too stood.

'He is in hospital, which is the best place for him.' They both looked down at their friend, tired smiles on their faces once more when they saw that Aramis was now asleep, his mouth curved into a contended expression and slightly open.

'See, he'll be fine- we can come back tomorrow and check up on him.' Athos nodded to Porthos, who sighed and nodded his agreement.

'Alright, I 'spose.' he muttered, before the two of them left the room quietly, leaving Aramis to his slumber.

* * *

 _Three weeks later_

d'Artagnan sat back in the leather armchair by the fire in the Musketeer common room as the rain cascaded down outside, trying desperately to conceal the smile on his face as he looked down at the hand of cards he had been dealt by Porthos. Athos looked across at him, rolling his eyes as he saw the younger man's eyes light up at whatever he had been dealt.

'You have a terrible poker face, lad.' he commented, taking a gulp of wine as he placed his own cards face down on the table between the four of them before he too sat back, his face impassive.

'Or he could be tricking us into thinking he'd got a good hand?' Aramis countered, an eyebrow quirked. 'He could be a master bluffer!'

'I think you give me too much credit...' the Gascon muttered, to which the three older men laughed.

It had now been three weeks since the explosion in the docks- an investigation had ruled that somehow a spark had been created near the barrels of gunpowder that had been delivered. It hadn't been a particularly hot day, therefore either a dock worker's pipe had ignited the cargo, or some other nefarious culprit was to blame. Either way, it could not be proven; the area was too badly damaged for a thorough investigation.

Aramis had been released from hospital three days earlier, on strict instruction to rest as much as he could, and under no circumstances was he to go back to active duty until the surgeon had deemed him fit. As each of the four men had more or less been given the same instruction, they had spent much of their time together, either in Athos' spacious living quarters, in the numerous taverns dotted around the city, or in the common room they were in now, where Musketeers could go to rest and eat between shifts.

Aramis hissed in pain as his slowly-healing leg protested at the angle it was in; with a low groan he reached down and lifted it up before depositing it on Athos' knee with a contended sigh. The other man looked down before looking back up and quirking an eyebrow at the medic; Aramis grinned and leant over to refill Athos' wine goblet as way of a thank you, causing Athos to chuckle and sit back so Aramis' leg had more room.

'Right, gents- lets see your cards!' Porthos announced, but before they could reveal their hands the door to the common room opened, heralding a man who was most definitely not a Musketeer.

'Well, look who it is...' Porthos whispered as they watched Clement walk down the room towards them, an unsure expression on his face as everyone turned to look at him.

'Can I sit, gents?' he asked as he came level with them, voice meek.

'Pull up a chair.' Athos nodded, before each of them waited as Clement resolved to drag an armchair across the room rather than pick up the wooden chair next to d'Artagnan.

The merchant wiped his sweaty face as he sank into the chair, eyeing each man nervously.

'So, how are you, Clement?' Aramis asked, genuinely interested to know.

'My business was flattened, most of my men died, and I lost all my equipment.' Clement replied tartly. 'How do you think?'

'Steady,' Athos growled, irritation already rising. 'You're not down in the docks now.'

Clement took a deep breath, giving Aramis an apologetic look. 'Sorry,' he muttered.'I've had a bad few weeks. Trying to build up the business again is taking longer than I had hoped.'

'I can imagine,' Aramis replied, his voice soft. 'If we can do anything, please let us know.'

'That's very kind, but I don't know what a bunch of Musketeers can do...' Clement said, before breathing in deeply again and smiling up at him sadly. 'The King waived my debt in the wake of the explosion, which was decent of him.' he said, giving a small shrug.

'Why did you come here, Clement?' Porthos asked, a questioning look on his face.

'I...I came here to apologise.'

'What for?' d'Artagnan muttered, eyebrow quirked. 'For abandoning us? For refusing to get help when we begged for it? For-'

'd'Artagnan, enough.' Aramis said quietly, eyes locked on Clement, who looked down at his feet, ashamed.

'I'm sorry I didn't get help- I...I should have.' The older man swallowed hard. 'My only thought was for my son, you understand?'

'Of course we do.' Aramis said, patting the man on the shoulder. 'Regret is in the past, of which we no longer have any control. Let us look to the future, yes?'

'Yes,' Clement nodded. 'Thank you for...understanding.' He stood, brushing down his trousers. He looked across at the men, who seemed to be in varying states of understanding at the present moment. 'I-I spoke to Captain Treville before coming in here. I wanted to show my apology rather than just say it...I've given the Garrison three months supply of fish, just to show you how sorry I was.'

Athos nodded- with the state of his business at the moment, he knew Clement was taking a big drop in profit to do this. 'I'm sure Serge will appreciate it, as will we.' He gave him a small smile. 'Aramis' offer still stands- if you need any help, please ask us and we will do our best.'

'Thank you.' Clement nodded. 'You're not as bad as I thought,' he added, to which Porthos threw out a laugh. The Merchant chuckled nervously at the reaction, before nodding to the four of them and walking away, leaving the Inseperables watching his retreating back.

'Well, free fish!' Porthos chuckled as the door closed behind Clement, taking a large gulp of wine. 'That's not bad, is it?'

'Bedpans at the ready, eh, Aramis?' Athos quipped, to which Aramis snorted and closed his eyes with a pained expression. 'Can we just please play cards?' he asked the group at large, who grinned at his discomfort.

'Alright- loser buys the next round!' d'Artagnan announced, before the four of them continued their card game, the warmth and light of the crackling fire a welcome contrast to the storm raging outside.

 **The End.**

 **Thank you to everyone for reading this small tale- I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Please review one last time...I would really love to know your thoughts ^^**

 **Until next time...**

 **X**


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